A Chance in Hell
by Enide Dear
Summary: Self harm doesn't always come in the form you expect it to.


His head was filled with a cacaphony of noise and disconnected actions, like someone channel surfing at max speed, his heart was racing wildly, there were cold sweat soaking through his t shirt. He fought not to vomit as the panic attack crunched down on him harder and harder, clutching the table so hard he heard the sturdy metal groan even as he leaned his head against the cold surface. It felt like he was drowning. It felt like he was dying.

"Chief?" A hard grip on his shoulder and metal cut into his flesh, enough to draw him back from the edge he had been balancing so precautions on. Not all the way out of the madness, but enough that he could gather enough wits to look up into worried burgony eyes and think shitshitshitshitshit.

"Chief, are you alright? What's wrong?"

"Yeah, I just….must have got the wrong cup. Someone must have forgotten their coffee here and I thought it was my tea. Damn shit gets me all panicy." He got wobbly to his feet. "'S why I just drink tea, ya know? Now 'xcuse me, gotta go lie down a bit."

Vincent watched with concern as the pilot made his unsteady way towards his cabin.

"Aren't you cold, chief?" Even huddled inside his own mantle – and being undead – Vincent felt the sharp bite of cold; they were closing in on Icicle Inn fast. And yet the pilot's jacket hung open and his yellow scarf was nowhere to be seen.

"Nah, it aint too bad. Feels fresh, ya know." Cid didn't look at him. There were white goose bumps on his exposed skin and his lips were getting blue around his cig.

"You hate cold." Vincent frowned. "Why aren't you properly dressed?"

"Why don't ya mind yer own business, Valentine!" Angry, he stomped away along the Highwinds open deck, unheeding of the snowflakes falling around him.

Or maybe not unheeding. Maybe he did feel them, everyone of them, little shards of falling glass on his skin.

Vincent's frown grew deeper.

"I know what you are doing, chief." The voice made Cid startle and he dropped the lit match on his jacket, swearing as he slapped it out.

"The Hell are ya about now, Valentine?!" he grumbled. "Can't ya see I'm busy here?"

"You have been too busy too long. Taking over responsibility for Avalanche while Cloud is….sick….has not agreed with you." Vincent stepped forward and removed the burning stump of a cig from between Cid's fingers before it could burn him. "This is your seventh cigarette today."

"Don't know what yer talking about. I've always smoked." Cid looked very decisively at a point somewhere over Vincent's left shoulder.

"Drinking coffee on purpose although it induces panic attacks, dressing to thin for the weather, smoking constantly….you are self-harming, chief." Sad red eyes bored into blue ones.

Cid bristled, suddenly meeting Vincent's stare straight on even though he had to get up on his toes to do so.

"Look, I ain't some emo pansy running around cutting myself or some such shit! There are monsters a-plenty out there willing to do so for me!"

"Self harm comes in many forms. I should know. Excessive sleeping, letting life pass me by…it was punishment for my sins. And now you are hurting yourself for your presumed sins."

Cid said nothing. Vincent continued.

"You never wanted to be a leader, yet here you are. Responsible for the whole team, for retrieving the High Materia and fighting Weapon, not to mention piloting the Highwind. And all that while two of our heaviest hitters are out of the picture. You hold yourself responsible and you worry. And you hurt yourself."

"You don't know shit, Vince…." Cid's voice sounded decisively unsteady.

"Oh, I know, Cid, I know. I understand. Perhaps it is time to return to Mideel, to see how Cloud fares. If only for your sake." Vincent's human hand squeezed the pilot's tense shoulder.

"No. I promised to take care of things while he was….gone….and I ain't about to heap all this leadership shit back on him when he'd not well! And I can't ask Tifa to come back either, ya know that." Cid shook his head. "I jest gotta man up and do this."

"Then at least don't do it alone. Let us help. Me and Barret, Nanaki….even Yuffie and Cait. Split the burden."

Cid wasn't sure how it had happened but his head was leaning against Vincent's chest and it was a strong chest, nowhere near as spindly and vulnerable as it looked. The man smelled of graveyard roses but his damn chest was wet. What was that about? Couldn't be from Cid's eyes. Must be some vampire goth thing.

"We are all in this together, chief." Vincent mumbled against his head. "You don't have to do everything all by yourself. We won't let you down. We're not ShinRa."

"Maybe…maybe yer right. Maybe I should give ya'll a chance." It felt remarkably good to say it, as if something cold and brittle inside him shattered. Flying and engineering and space he knew about, but leadership? He didn't want it. He'd never really felt like he could do it. And for every time he failed he needed to do…something. But maybe not anymore.

"A chance is all we ask for, chief." Vincent's smile was small and brittle, but it was a smile. Cid din't think he'd even seen the man smile before. "And that you give the same to us." He leaned forward, pressing dry lips against Cid's forehead and when the pilot looked up in suprise, against his lips.

Cid felt a small wobbly smile creep up on his own lips.

"Yeah. Maybe. Jest a chance, though."

"Just a chance." They smile into the kiss.


End file.
